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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No. 

ShelL.if _6:a ^ 
ffao 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



OVERHEARD IN A GARDEN 



^noli0 ijp Omtv |)erforli. 



A CHILD'S PRIMER OF NATURAL HISTORY. 

Illustrated by the author. Small 4to. $1.25. 

THE BASHFUL EARTHQUAKE. With many illus- 
trations by the author. i2mo. $1.25. 

Altogether, Mr. Herford's drollery is a boon. He is 
worthy — and this is saying much — of the traditions of 
Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll. His nonsense is in 
sympathy with their nonsense. — TA^ N. Y. Tribune. 



CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, Publishers. 




V 



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07^t^u^J> 



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Overheaird 
^na Gardeix 

Ay. 

Oliver Herford 




"New York • Publwhed by 
Charles Scribi\erJr Soas 



L ibrary of Congress 

I WO Copies Received 
NOV 23 1900 

A Copyright entry 

SECOND COPY 

Delivered to 

ORDER OIV«ION 

JAN 26 1901 



No 






Copyright, igoo, by 
OLIVER HERFORD 



UNIVERSITY PRESS . JOHN WILSON 
AND SON . CAMBRIDGE . U. S. A. 



CONTENTS 



I OVEEHEAED IN A GAEDEN 

Page 

Tell-Tale 1 

Gossip . 4 

A Hopeless Case 5 

The Fall of the Rose 9 

Scandal . 10 

The Quarrel 12 

A Butterfly of Fashion 15 

A Symphonette 19 

II NOT IN THE GAEDEN 

Moon-struck 27 

A Calendar of Discontent : 

Spring 28 

Summer 29 

Autumn 30 

Winter 31 

Lese Majeste 33 

A Decadent 34 

Love and Time 35 

A Tragedy in Rhyme 38 

A New-Yorker 42 

The Plagiarist 47 

A Butterfly Girl 49 

V 



Pagb 

The Missing Link 50 

The Strike 53 

A Little Chapter on Sport : 

Pig-Sticking 60 

The Fox-Hunt 61 

A Deer-Hunt „ . . 62 

Coursing 63 

III BUBBLES 

A Plea 66 

Toast and Water 66 

DuM ViviMus 67 

On the Brink 67 

To a Girl 67 

Memories , 68 

Nil Desperandum , 68 

To a Chaperone 68 

Two Out of Time 71 

CURTAIN CALLS 

The Explanation 87 

The Wandering Jew 88 

Horace , c 90 

Jonah 92 

Lady Macbeth 94 

Godiva 96 

Desdemona . 98 

Eve 100 

Cleopatra 102 



vi 



OVERHEARD 
in a GARDEN 



T: 



'HE BuhUe winked at me and said, 
"You 'II miss me, hr other, when you We 
dead." 




TELL-TALE 

The Lily whispered to the Eose : 
^' The Tulip 's fearfully stuck up. 

You 'd think, to see the creature's pose, 
She were a golden altar-cup. 

There 's method in her boldness, too; 

She catches twice her share of Dew.'' 
1 1 




The Rose into the Tulip's ear 

Murmured : '^The Lily is a sight; 

Don't you helieve she powders, dear, 
To make herself so saintly white ? 

She takes some trouble, it is plain, 

Her reputation to sustain.'' 

Said Tulip to the Lily white : 

'^ About the Rose — what do you think ? - 
Her color ? Should you say it 's quite — 

Well, quite a natural shade of pink ? " 
" Natural ! '^ the Lily cried. " Good Saints ! 
Why, everybody knows she paints ! " 
2 



GOSSIP 

The news around the garden flew : 

Last night the Kose was robbed — A flower 
Was filched from her and flung into 

The casement of my Lady^s bower. 

The flowers were mystified. In vain 
They asked of one another, ' ' Pray^ 

What ails our Lady of Disdain 
That she must wear a Rose to-day ? " 

The Daisy, with her latest breath, 
'Reft of her petals, whispered low, 

' ' It is a secret to the Death ; 
I gave my petals all to knowJ^ 




A HOPELESS CASE 



Her sisters shunned her, half in fear 
And half in pity. " 'T is too bad 

She is not made as we — poor dear ! ^' 
(Four leaves instead of Three she had.) 

Said Doctor Bee : " Her case is rare 
And due to Influence prenatal. 

To amputate I would not dare, 
The operation might be fatal. 
5 



rS^Srv, 




' ' With Rest and Care and Simple Food 
She ma}'- outlive both you and me ; 

A. change of scene might do her good/' 
(One bag of Honey was his fee.) 

^'Take me ! take me! '' the clovers cry, 
To a maid bending wistful-eyed. 

With gentle hand she puts them by, 
Till all but one are passed aside. 

Before her sisters' wondering eyes 
Her leaves with kisses are told over. 

" At last! at last! " the maiden cries, 

**rve found you, little four-leaved clover." 
6 




THE FALL OF THE EOSE 

HAT the First Bee sang, who knows 
When he tempted the First Rose ? 
Some such tale the Flowers believe, 
As the Serpent told to Eve. 
Only this the Roses know: 
Petals once as white as snow 
To a burning crimson grew, 
As her Loveliness she knew. 
Then it was a leaf she took 
Out of Eve's own fashion-book ; 
And from Eden's mosses wove 
An apron chaste. In vain she strove, 
For in that veil of emerald lace 
The Moss Rose found an added grace. 
9 




SCANDAL 

. \J^z \ 1^'A' "^^^ ^^^ *^® Morning Glory's airs, 

'/^^ V I She has the instincts of a Weed; 






V^y^i'i 



tv^ ' In 






To-day I caught her unawares 
Kissing a Squash — I did indeed. 

"But don't repeat it," said the Kose, 
"^ Then told the Pink, who told the Bee, 
Who said, '^I '11 see to it, it goes 
No farther." Then he told it me. 






10 







Said I, *'It is a shame, Bee ! 
To circulate such arrant Bosh 



You're only jealous of the Squash." /d/^^\/^ 



And if it 's true — it 's plain to see — ^yjf(^ 




11 




THE QUAEREL 

The Laurel started the affair, 
Calling the Rose a vain coquette. 

The Rose replied she did not care 

What people thought, outside her set. 



^' Faith, you speak true! " the Laurel cried, 
' ' Roses and Laurels only meet 

When on the Hero's head we ride. 
And you are tossed beneath his feet." 
12 



The Rose retorted, "I could name 
More than one Hero who threw down 

His precious Laurel wreath of fame 

For just one Rose from Beauty's crown." 






\a 







CS-J 



The Laurel frowned, ^^ 'T is as you say, 
And yet it cannot be gainsaid, 

Their Laurels are undimmed to-day 
Save by the Folly of that trade." 
13 



' Your reasoning 's false ! " exclaimed the Eose, 

*' Your premises are falser yet ; 
Your sentiment is all a pose ! 

Besides — you are not in my set ! " 



MORAL 



'Twixt Duty, here below, and Love, 
Alas ! we see a great gulf fixed ; 

Perhaps they 're Introduced Above, 
In Heaven, society is mixed. 



14 




A BUTTEEFLY OF FASHION 

A REAL Butterfly, I mean, 

With Orange-pointed saffron wings 
And coat of inky Velveteen — 

None of your Fashion-plated Things 

That dangle from the Apronstrings 
Of Mrs. Grundy — or you see 

Loll hy the Stage Door or the Wings, 
Or sadly flit from Tea to Tea. 



Not such a Butterfly was he; 

He lived for Sunshine and the Hour; 
He did not flit from Tea to Tea, 

But gayly flew from Flower to Flower. 
15 



One Day there came a Thunder Shower — 

An Open Window he espied. 
He fluttered in ; behold, a Flower ! 

An Azure Eose with petals wide. 

He did not linger to decide 

Which Flower ; there was no other there. 
He calmly settled down inside 

That Rose, and no one said " Beware ! " 



There was no Friend to say, ^^ Take care ! " 
How ever, then, could he suppose 

This Blossom, of such Color Eare, 
Was just an Artificial Eose ? 

All might have ended well — who knows ? - 
But just then some one chanced to say : 

'^ The very Latest Thing ! That Rose 
In Paris is the Rage To-day ^ 



No Eose of such a Tint outre 
Was ever seen in Garden Bed; 

The Butterfly had such a Gay, 

Chromatic Sense, it turned his head. 
16 



''^ The Very Latest Thing ? '' he said; 

<*Long have I sighed for something New ! 
O Eoses Yellow, White, and Red, 

Let others sip ; mine shall he Blue I " 

The Flavor was not Nice, 't is true 
(He felt a Pain inside his Waist). 

" It is not well to overdo," 
Said he, ^^ a just-acquired taste." 

The Shower passed ; he joined in haste 
His friends. With condescension great, 

Said he, ^^I fear your time you waste; 
JReal Roses are q^idte out of date." 

He argued «arly, argued late, 

Till what was erst a Harmless Pose 

Grew to a Pierce, Inordinate 
Craving for Artificial Rose. 

He haunted Garden Parties, Shows, 

Wherever Ladies Congregate, 
And in their Bonnets thrust his nose 

His Craving Fierce to Satiate. 

2 17 



At last he chanced, sad to relate, 
Into a Caterer's with his Pose, 

And there Pneumonia was his Fate 
From sitting on an Ice Cream Rose. 

Reader, shun the Harmless Pose. 

They buried him, with scant lament, 
Beneath a Common Brier-E,ose, 

And wrote : 

Here Lies a Decadent. 




18 




Why, oh why- 
Do you sigh, 

Violets ? 
On joyful wings 
The hlackbird sings 

Chansonettes. 
Now spring is here, 
Old winter drear 

He forgets. 
19 



THE VIOLETS : 

He Tnay sing, 
He can fly 
On his wing 
To the sky. 
We must stay. 
Live and die. 
Here alway, 
In this wood, 
Misunderstood, 
Oh to fly! 
We are nigh 
Sick to death 
Of the trees 
And the vines. 
And the breath 
Of the pines 
In the breeze. 



II 



ALLEGRETTO 



Change of scene. 
Gone the sad 
Woods of green. 
20 



Beneath the glad 
Electric sheen 
Of Broadway, 
Violets gay 
Take their way 
To the Play 
In a bouquet. 



Ill 

SCHERZO 

Madcap Play, 
Merry strife, 
Chorus gay, 
Viol, fife. 
Hip, Hurray ! 
This is life ! 

Fairy scene, 
Flash of gauze, 
Pink, now green, 
Wild applause — 
She comes ! The Queen 1 1 
21 



THE violets: 

Hark^ she sings / 
OA, ecstasy! 
Oh for wings / 
Ohio fly ! 
For the bliss 
Of one kiss 
We could die 1 




Breathless flight, 
^'A Swift as light, 
^■^^ \ Oh, rapturous night ! 
/ They 'light, they rest 
Tranquil, serene 
i^xV Upon the breast 

'^[ \ Of the Elf Queen. 







22 



ADAGIO 
THE violets: 

Tossed aside. 
None to care. 
Wherej oh^ where 
Shall we hide ? 

Fitful glare, 
Deserted street, 
Blank despair ! 
A sound of feet ! 

Oh, tired feet ! 
Will they spurn ? 

They retreat, 

They pause — they turn ! 

Face flower-pale, 
Clasp flower-frail. 
Kisses that burn 
And chill by turn. 
Eyes dim with pain. 

VIOLETS : 

Whence that warm rain ? 
23 



INTERMEZZO 

*' Nay, tempt not Fate ! 
'T is not too late ! 
We die ! But you 
May live anew. 
Ah, do not wait ! 
'T is not too late 
Yet to retrace 
And turn aside/' 
The Violets cried, 
Close to her face. 

FINALE 

Time has flown. 
In a glade 
Violet-strewn 
Sings a maid 
Soft and low. 
In the glade 
Where they grow, 
Bending so 
Very near, 
The Violets hear 
And they know. 

24 



II 

NOT IN THE GARDEN 



-'*tfe 










I WATCHED the moon let down her liair 

In ripples on the sea. 
She loosed each diamond pin with care 

And stuck it carefully 
In the dark pin-cushion of sky. 

'^ Ah, now" I said, ''I know the why 
And wherefore of the stars. 

I always used to think at night, 
To see them shine, they were the light 

Of seraphim's cigars. 
Now I have learned, and none too soon, 

They are the Hairpins of the Moon." 
27 




A CALENDAE OF DISCONTENT 



SPRING 



Too well I know you, Spring, and so restrain 
My foolish muse from all such flatterings vain 
As " mild" and " gentle " — lest I be repaid, 
Even as Marsyas of old, and flayed, 
This time by icj^ hail and cutting sleet. 
Instead — I pra}'^ your going may be fleet, 
That soon I may forget and drowse away 
My weariness beneath Dear Summer's sway. 
28 



' '%. 



^ 






^/ 



ri^\ 



SUMMER 

Insufferable season of the Sun, 

When will your endless reign of fire be done ? 

When will your noisy insect court take flight ? 

Your orchestra that rests not, — day or night ; 

Your armies with unconquerable stings; 

When will they flee — what for do they have 

wings ? 
How long before brave Autumn, with a shout, 
Will succor me and put them all to rout ? 
29 




AUTUMN 

You dismal mourner, wailing by the bier 
Of Summer dead, with lamentations drear, 
Driving me frantic ever and anon, 
With reminiscences of Summer gone, — 
Now mimicking her tenderest airs and tones, 
Now harrowing me with horrid shrieks and 

groans, — 
Were good old jolly Winter only here, 
I 'd soon forget you and j^our evil cheer ! 
30 




WINTER 

Hoary impostor ! with mock jovial air, 
You took the green earth prisoner unaware, 
And pinioned the trees that moan and call 
To Spring to free them from your icy thrall. 
You manacled the stream, who tugs in vain 
To loose himself from your relentless chain. 
And I — ray heart is sad, my lyre is dumb; 
Mild, Gentle Spring, — oh! will you ever come! 
31 




32 



LESE MAJESTE 

The Lion ramps around the cage, 

The Lady smiles to see him rage. 

The little Mouse outside the bars 

Looks on and laughs. " Well, bless my stars ! " 

Quoth he, " to think they call that thing 

The King of Beasts! If he '5 a King, 

Who cannot make the Lady wince, 

What must / be ? When, not long since. 

Inside the cage I chanced to slip, 

You should have seen that Lady skip 

Upon the Lion's back. ' Help ! Murder ! 

A Mouse! ' she screamed; you should have heard 

her! 
And then with brooms the keepers came 
And drove me out (but, all the same, 
I got the crumb that I was after). 
A King indeed ! Excuse my laughter ! " 



33 



A DECADENT 

Eealities to Him are Cold and Stern. 

He loves from Nature's Crudities to turn 
To the Sweet Unrealities of Art 

And all Her Tinkling Symbolism learn. 

For Him there is no Kose at the Fleuriste 
Vies with the Rose of Cr§pe of the Modiste 

And Paradise, without a Milliner 

He vows would be unutterably Triste. 



34 




LOVE AND TIME 

Love stole Time's hour-glass one day 
(It happened he was out of hearts), 

And set it up beside the way, 
To be a target for his darts. 



At length but one of all his quiver 

Remained (some glanced and some fell wide) ; 
He shot the last — Time saw it shiver 

His glass. ^^ What have you done ? '' he cried. 
35 





7 III vain Love pieced the broken parts. 
.J^ The sand would not run true, alas ! 
Cried Time : ^^ Confound you and your 
darts ! 
Now I must get another glass.'' 



So ever since, to mark his shooting. 
Love kept the glass that Time refused. 

And lovers ever since, computing. 

The hours with minutes have confused. 



36 



1^- 







37 




A TEAGEDY IN EHYME 



There was a man upon a time 
Who could not speak except in rhyme. 
He could not voice his smallest wish, 
He could not order soup or fish, 
He could not hail a passing car, 
He could not ask for a cigar, — 
And let a rhymeless sentence mar 
His speech. He could not vent despair, 
Anger, or rage — he could not swear, 
38 




He could not even have his say- 
On common topics of the day. 
The dreadful cold — the awful heat, 
The rise in coal, the fall in wheat, 
He could not rise to give his seat 
In crowded car to maiden sweet, 
Or buy a paper in the street, — 
Except in measured, rhyming feet. 
" He must have been a man of means ! 
In this, the age of magazines ! " 
I hear you say. Ah, reader, wait 
Till you have heard his awful fate. 
You will not then expatiate 
Upon his fortune. — 
39 





Well, one night 
A burglar came, and at the sight, 
The rhymester took a fearful fright. 
The only avenue for flight 
Was up the chimney ; here he climbed 
Until he stuck, and then he rhymed 
As follows: — 

'^ Goodness gracious me / 
I 'm stuck as tight as tight can be / 
Oh, dear, I^m in an awful plight. 
I cannot budge to left or right, 
Or up or down this awful chimney / '* 
Then he was stuck ; had he said " Jimm'ny ! " 
It would have saved him many a pang. 
But no ! he could not stoop to slang. 
In vain he writhed and racked his brain 
For rhymes to '^ chimney." 
40 



\^'/ 



/ fl 







It was plain 
He had to rhyme — for should he cease 
He must forever hold his peace. 
He tried to shout, he tried to call. 
The truth fell on him like a pall. 
There is n't any rhyme at all 
To "chimney." — 

When they searched the room 
They found it silent as a tomb. 
For years they advertised in vain 
They never heard of him again. 




41 




A NEW-YOEKER 

■ Breathes there a man with soul so dead 
Who never to himself hath said, 
' This is my own my native land ' ? " 

Walter Scott. 



The man of whom I siDg was not 
Cast in the mould of Walter Scott. 

Van Hatton Jones O'Rorke 
Sighs never for his native loam; 
Where'er his feet may chance to roam 
He feels ahout as much at home 

As in his own New York. 
42 



Says he, '^No matter where I go, 
From Baffin's Bay to Borneo, 

From Kandahar to Cork; 
From pole to pole, from sea to sea 
No matter where on earth I he — 
Something I find reminding me 

Of little old New York." 



.lu 




In Switzerland 't is his delight 
To sit upon an Alp at night, 

'' Because,'' as he explains, 
"The avalanches I adore. 
As down the mountain side they pour. 
They call to mind the fitful roar 

Of elevated trains.'' 
43 







'l^'^^^f ^^^ Indian jungle, dank 
-'^'-C-i^ and dim, 

A fascination has for him; 
He is not scared at all 
To see a fearful tiger spring, 
But claps his hands like anything 
And makes the silent jungle ring 
With cheers for Tammany Hall. 



In Hong Kong — in Jerusalem — 
He weeps with joy, for each of them, 
Freighted with memories sweet; 
44 




The one with almond eyes and cues, 
So too the other with its Jews 
The recollection fond renews 
Of Mott and Baxter Street. 




45 



On Nicaragua's riven rocks, 

Furrowed and rent by earthquake shocks, 

He'll gaze the livelong day. 
For in their chasms deep and wide, 
With earth torn up on either side, 
He can not but recall with pride 

His own dear old Broadway. 



E'en as I write there comes to me 
A letter (dated Ashantee) 

Telling of his decease. 
"A savage tribe,^^ the letter saith, 
•^ With cruel clubs beat him to death, 
Exclaiming with his latest breath, 

^ How like our brave Police ! ' '^ 




46 





/ THE PLAGIAEIST 

Clusters of grapes on a 

lofty tree; 
<'Pooh! " said the Fox, 

" too sour for me ! " 
Just then an inspiration 

came — 
On a low branch he 

placed his name. 
Happening soon a Crow 

to spy, 
^^ Nice grapes ! " he cried. 

"Miss, won't you buy?" 
Said she, ^^ I '11 buy, and 

pay you well. 
Only, first, prove they 're 

yours to sell." 
'*No fear!" he cried, 

'' behold my name ! " 

MORAL 
No grapes too high for some 







to dai 



47 







irrf^' 






<^> 



48 



A BUTTEEFLY GIEL 

They tell me I 
Am like (oh, my ! 
I wonder why) 
A butterfly! 

/cannot fly! 
No wings have I. 
And butterflies 
They are not wise 
As I, who say 
My ABC 
(As far as K) 
Fast as can be ! 

I cannot see, 
How it can be, 
I cannot guess, 
Unless — unless — 
May be — why, yes ! 
He, too, like me. 
Loves so to press 
His little nose 
Into a rose. 
49 



THE MISSING LINK. 

There was chattering and jabbering and bellowing 

and growling, 
And the sound of many waters and of many 

creatures howling, 
As the voices of creation all were lifted up together 
In a universal chorus — " Did you ever see such 

weather ? " 

Beside the rail, despite the gale, 

Old Noah took each ticket, 
And registered each Beast and Bird 

That passed inside the wicket. 

And when at last they had made fast 
As much as they could stow away, 

He cried " Let go ! cut loose ! yo ho ! 
Hoist gang ! avast ! heave ho — away ! " 

With heave and yank, up came the plank, 

A-straining and a-creaking, 
When, rising o'er the wind and roar. 

They heard two voices shrieking, — 
50 



" Take us aboard ! You can't afford 

So cruelly to flout us ! 
We are a pair extremely rare ; 

No ark 's complete without us.'' 

Down went the gang, and up there sprang 
Before them, through the curtain 

Of blinding rain, the oddest twain, 
Of genus most uncertain. 

They 'd human shape, yet like the ape 

Were caudally appended; 
And, strange to tell, their feet as well, 

Like apes', in fingers ended. 

Quoth Noah, " Pray, who are you — say? 

Human, or anthropoidal ? " 
" You takes your choice ! " as with one voice 

They cried; which so annoyed all 

The apes on board with one accord 
They screamed for indignation ; 

'T was very clear they would not hear 
Of any such relation. 

Said Noah, " Though, you 're rare, I know 

You 're not for my collection ; 
And though not vain, I must refrain 

From claiming the connection. 
51 



With small regret, the pair he set 
On shore mid cheers and hissing, 

And that 's the way it comes to-day 
The Missing Link is missing. 



52 



THE STRIKE. 



One Mr. William Thingum Tite, 

His young wife's patience sorely tried; 

She called her boy, as well she might, 
Untidiness Personified. 

Whene'er he went to bed 
at night, 
He never put his things 
away, 
But tossed his clothes to 

left or right, /l&^' "II V-^-" 

And where they fell r£K ^^ 
He let them yC^ , 

stay..^,^^^ (2^ 

53 




Now, worms are not the only folk 
That, when exasperated, turn. 

Clothes, too, will turn (thaVs not a joke), 
As from this narrative you '11 learn. 



One night, when Mr. William lay 
Wrapped in the arms of Morpheus, 

His clothes a meeting held, that they 
Their sad condition might discuss. 



The Koll Call first of all was read. 

And when 't was found that all were there, 

Since he came nearest to the head. 
To Derby Hat they gave the chair. 





"My Fellow Garments ! " he began, 
When every one at last was still, 

" Let us put down the tyrant man ! " 

As with one voice they cried, " We will! " 



** He calls himself Creation's Lord, 
But were it not for me and you, 

What would he do ? " With one accord 
The meeting cried, " What could he do ? " 



^' How could he go to ball or hop. 

Or even walk the avenues ? " 
<^ Why, but for us he'd have to stop 

At home, of course ! " exclaimed the Shoes. 
55 




" Supposing, on the street, perhaps, 

He met a lady that he knew — 
How could he bow ? " The Hats and Caps 

Shouted in unison, '^That 's true! '' 

" How could he even offer her 

His hand in saying, ' How d 'ye do ' ? 

You know to whom I now refer! '' 

" We do ! " exclaimed the Gloves. « We do ! " 



*^ And what is more, if we were not 
Good Form," concluded Derby Hat, 

" How ever from the common lot 

Could he be told ? Now tell me that! " 



4, r^ 

56 





A Resolution then, proposed 
By Oxford Shoe, and seconded 

By White Cravat (no one opposed), 
Was passed — and this is how it read : 

Whereas, one William Thin gum Tite, 
Has shown himself for clothes unfit. 

Whereas, we, Undersigned, this night 
Are painfully aware of it ; 



Whereas, said William never pays 

Us the attention that we like ; 
Resolved, unless he mend his ways. 

We, Undersigned, His Clothes, will strike ! 
57 



The Resolution being framed, 

And signed and sealed that very night, 
A deputation then was named 

To wait on William Thingum Tite. 

When William rose next day he wore 
A somewhat sad and thoughtful air. 

Picking his clothes from off the floor, 

He smoothed them out with greatest care. 

You would not know young William Tite 
If now he chanced to meet your eye ; 

He is a vision of delight ; 

He keeps a valet, — that is why. 




58 



A LITTLE CHAPTER 
ON SPORT 




PIG-STICKING 



Oh, see the Boar dash through the Brake! 
He knows good Sport, and no mis-take ! 
Ah ! now he turns and kills a Dog. 
He is a Vicious, Brutal Hog ! 
He has the temper of a Rat. 
But soon they '11 give him tit-for-tat. 
My Child, this teaches how Unwise 
It is to let your Temper rise. 
60 




THE FOX-HUNT 



Oh, Fox, you 've had a merry run. 
In all the world there 's no such fun 
As over Fields and Fences free 
To chase a Sporty Fox, and be 
First at the Death. In Wood or Field 
What can more Healthy Pleasure yield 
Than this ? 

What say you, Curlyloclvs ? 
Well, no! — perhaps not, to the Fox! 
61 




A DEER-HUNT 



The Hunter's Horn sounds Bright and Clear 
The Hunters raise a merry cheer. 
But why is Mr. Stag so Sad ? 
Sport is a thing to make one Glad. 
He seems about to shed a Tear, 
Just when the Height of Sport is near. 
If he can swim a few Strokes more, 
I fear that he will gain the Shore, 
And then, if he should get aivay, 
The Sport is Ruined for To-day. 
62 




COURSING 



The Hare is oif, he does not lag ! 

He 's glad to leave the stuffy Bag, 

And play a little game of Tag. 

Will the Hare win ? Oh, not at all. 

He cannot go beyond that wall. 

Ah, now he 's caught ! Why does he Squeal 

So very loud ? He makes me feel 

Quite Queer! 

The Hare, my Child, is Short 
Of Brains. He does not know it 's Sport. 
63 



o 



G 




Ill 

BUBBLES 



A PLEA 

God made Man 

Frail as a bubble ; 
God made Love, 

Love made Trouble. 
God made the Vine, 

Was it a sin 
That Man made Wine 

To drown Trouble in ? 



TOAST AND WATER 

Here 's to old A.dam's crystal ale, 
Clear, sparkling, and divine. 
Fair H2O, long may you flow ! 
We drink your health (in wine). 
66 



DUM VIVIMUS 

Yesterday's yesterday while to-day's here, 
To-day is to-day till to-morrow appear, 
To-morrow 's to-morrow until to-day 's past, 
And kisses are kisses as long as they last. 



ON THE BKINK 

If all your beauties, one by one, 
I pledge, dear, I am thinking 

Before the tale were well begun 
I had been dead of drinking. 



TO A GIEL 

Here 's lovers two to the maiden true, 
And four to the maid caressing, 

But the wayward girl with the lips that curl 
Keeps twenty lovers guessing. 
67 



MEMOEIES 

Kisses tender, kisses cold, 
Kisses timid, kisses bold, 
Kisses joyful, kisses sad. 
Pass the bowl or I '11 go mad. 



NIL DESPEEANDUM 

Don't die of love ; in heaven above 
Or hell they '11 not endure you ; 

Why look so glum when Doctor Eum 
Is waiting for to cure you ? 



TO A CHAPEEONE 

Here 's to the chaperone. 
May she learn from Cupid 

Just enough blindness 
To be sweetly stupid. 



TWO OUT OF TIME 



TWO OUT OF TIME 

Time. — A mixture of the Fifteenth and Nineteenth Centuries. 
Scene. — A Forest. Large tree at centre. At foot of tree 

remains of small picnic spread — half emptied champagne 

glasses, white cloth, etc., etc. Faint inusic whenever Shepherd 

speaks. 

Persons : 
CoRTDON. — A Shepherd of the Fifteenth Century. 
Madeleine. — Leading Lady of the Pinero Theatre. 

{Sound of the Shepherd's pipe in distance and approaching.) 

(Enter Corydon playing on pipe. He stops playing, stretches 

his arms, and yawns.) 

Corydon. 
Where can they be — my sheep ? I must have slept 
A moon at least, that they have strayed so far. 
A murrain on them ! If I had but kept, 
The while I was asleep, one eye ajar, 
I would not now be wondering where they are. 

( Yawns.) 
Alack and well-a-day ! I feel so drear 
As I had been asleep a hundred year. 
And I have such an emptiness inside 
71 




As tho' I 'd eaten naught since Christmastide. 
I feel as empty as — what shall I say ? — 
As a wine jug to him who hath no pay, 
Empty as empty benches at a play, 
Or as the heads of silly sheep that stray. 

{Looks about in wonder.') 
Whence came this mighty forest that I see ? 
When I lay down to sleep there was no tree ■ — 
72 



Can it have sprung up in a single night ? 
(^Pauses. Then with terror.) 
God grant I be not some accursed wight 
Who lying down one night upon his bed 
Awoke to find that centuries had fled. 

(^Sees sheep^s skull upon ground. Picks it up,) 
Good Saints ! 'T is true — and centuries have flown. 
Of all my flock is left but this poor bone. 
Alas, poor Eameses ! I loved you well. 
How oft I Ve listened for your distant bell ; 
How oft I Ve heard your bleating on the plain. 
Alas, I ne'er shall hear you bleat again. 

{Emotion.) 
In sooth there 's no more joy in life for me, 
I '11 lay me down and die beneath this tree. 

{Crosses to tree. Sees picnic spread. Starts.) 
Now, by our Lady ! what may this thing be ? 
Marry, a feast ! 
{Kneels down and picks up champagne glass half 

full. Tastes. Is amazed.) 
A feast for gods — the devil ! 

{Drops glass. ) 
Sure 't is the scene of some unholy revel 
Of elves or fairies, witches, imps of hell. 
{Tastes another glass.) 
73 



Beshrew me, though, this witch's brew tastes well. 

(Drains glass — smacks lips.) 
Um ! That was good. It hath a wondrous spell. 
I vow that though the price of it were hell, 
One soul per drink, 

(Drinks.) 

One drink per soul, methinks 
I 'd pawn a score of souls for more such drinks. 
(Drinks again.) 



(Enter Madeleine., 
dressed in modern 
shooting costume, 
gun, etc. 
Cory don starts.) 

Have mercy on us ! 







74 




Angel — devil — troll — 

Or fairy — if you be ; oh, spare my soul ! 

I did but touch my lips unto the bowl. 



Madeleine. 

Get up, for Heaven's sake ! What 's the matter 
with you ? Are you crazy ? You look as if you 'd 
come from a museum. Who are you, anyway ? 

75 



COETDON. 

The shepherd Corydon, from yonder vale. 
Once I led sheep across a grassy dale 
Where now this forest stands, 

Alack a day ! 

Madeleine. 
You lack a day, do you ? If what you say is true, 
you lack three hundred years, laj friend ! for some 
of these trees are at least that old ! — 

Corydon. 

Ah, woe is me ! — then what I feared is true ! 

{Pause. Emotion.) 
And who are you, good master — who are you ? 

Madeleine. 
What do you take me for ? I 'm no man, I 'm a 
lady — an actress. I 'm visiting at the hall. Kead 
that if you don't helieve me ! 
{Pulls newspaper out of her pocket ; hands it.) 

Corydon. 
(Looking astonished at paper ; holding it at ami's 

length, and scratching his head^ 
Nay, but I cannot read, but I should say 
The scribe who penned it took full many a day 
76 




\ ' 



And many a horn of ink for such a screed. 
And 't is right clerkly penn'd — 
Wilt please you, read. 

Madeleine. 

You idiot, this is n't writing — it 's printing. 

COEYDON. 

Printing — what 's that ? — 

Madeleine. 
Printing is the precious product of the press 
agent. Listen ! 

77 



(^Heads.) 
**Miss Madeleine Young, of the Pinero Stock 
Company, is a guest at Tafton Hall, for Lady 
Scamper well's garden party/' 
(Stiffly.) 
I am the actress. 

CORYDON. 

An actress — what 's that ? 

Madeleine. 
An actress — a player. 

CORYDON. 

Good saints ! A mummer ! Prithee, what d 'ye 

play — 
A naughty queen, or an enchantress gay. 
Or a pale princess fleeing for her life. 
Or play you abbess — or the doctor's wife ? 

Madeleine. 
I am the leading lady. 

CORYDON. 

The leading lady ! Sakes ! What may you lead ? 
Say, lady, what thrice happy flock is thine ? — 
A herd of sheep, mayhap, or geese, or swine. 
78 



Madeleine. 

( Very deliberately.) 

Well — not exactly, and yet — But no! of 

course not — I mean I play the leading parts — 

and keep the centre of the stage from every one 

else. 

{Pushing him off.) 

CORYDON. 

Oh, Marry ! Now I see, you wed the prince 
Who saved you from the duke, who slew the queen 
Who poisoned her stepfather, who seduced — 

Madeleine. 

Nothing of the kind. We don't do any of those 
stupid things nowadays. Besides, it 's comedy, not 
tragedy. 

CORYDON. 

Ah, then you play a pretty shepherd maid 
Who loves the shepherd and the bailiff's son, 
And weds one of them when the play is done ! 

Madeleine. 
She 'd be more likely to wed them both in our 
kind of play. 

{Cory don makes gesture of horror.) 
79 



CORYDON. 

Perchance you play a shrew who beats her lord, 
Who steals a kid, and feigns that he be daft, 
And saving him from hanging, by your craft, 
Live happy ever after. 

Madeleine. 
Oh, stuff! All that's changed in our plays. 
The leading lady is married in the first act, and 
falls out of love at first sight in the second act, 
and in the third act is divorced and lives happy 
ever after. 

CORYDON. 

Divorced! What's that? 

Madeleine. 
That is the state of bliss every lady who truly 
and sincerely hates her lord aspires to attain. 

CORYDON. 

Call you that comedy ? It likes me not. 

Where does the play come in — what do they plot ? 

Madeleine. 

The plot ! Oh, we 're past all that sort of thing. 
They don't do anything in the play — that 's much 
too simple. In the first act they talk about what 
80 



they did before the play began. In the second act 
they read telegrams from people who are doing 
things elsewhere — and in the last act — 

CORYDON. 

I' faith, but I must be a stupid lout, 
For I can't see what 's left to talk about. 

Madeleine. 
Why, in the last act they talk about what they 're 
going to do when the play is over. 

CoRYDON. 

Sure this must be the Age of Talk — but, pray, 
What precious talk is this, that folks will pay 
To hear it ? 

Madeleine. 

Oh, for that matter, it does n't cut any ice if they 
say nothing at all, as long as they say it cleverly. 

CORYDON. 

I hate your prating plays. Once I did play 

A little part myself in a real play — 

'T would crack no ice for you, though, as you say. 

Madeleine. 

(^Laughing and mocking him — bowing very low.) 

Marry ! What play 'd you, sir — what might it be ? 

81 



CORYDON. 

A mystery play — of the Nativity, 

Madeleine. 
Who played the star part ? 

CORYDON. 

{^Reprovingly.) 
Nay, do not jest, good lady, e'en in fun, 
I played Third Shepherd in the place of one 
That was too full of sack his lines to spell. 
They picked me out because I play so well ! 
{Proudly.) 

Madeleine. 
So you were his understudy ? 

CORYDON. 

I know not what you mean, but this I know. 
They told me if a-mumming I would go, 
And con for years my lines till they went pat, 
I 'd rise to be First Shepherd. 

Madeleine. 
( With mock enthusiasm.) 
Think of that! Dear me! How could you 
refuse such a brilliant offer ? 
82 



CORTDON. 

'T is a long story, and as dull to thee 
As any nineteenth-century play to me. 



Madeleine. 

Or one of your stuffy old mystery plays to me, 
for that matter. 

(^Looking at her watch.) 

Great Heavens ! It 's four o'clock. We give a 
performance this afternooon at Lady Scamperwell's 
garden party on the lawn at five o'clock, and I 've 
just time to get over and dress. I 'm quite charmed 
to have met you. It is really wonderful — I can 
scarcely believe you are real — by the way, perhaps 
you 'd like to see the play ? 
{Takes card out of her porte-monnaie and writes.) 

Present this card at the lodge. The villagers 
will all be there, and you may meet some of your 
descendants — and you will see a play after your 
own heart! 

CORYDON. 

Eight gladly will I go — tho' I be shamed 
Of my torn frock. What may the play be named ? 
83 



Madeleine. 
We are going to do *'As You Like It/' by 
William Shakespeare. 

( With a fiourish.) 
Be sure and come. Good-bye! 
{Exit Madeleine.) 

CORYDON. 

{Thoughtfully.) 

By William Shakespeare, who may he be ? Nay, 

'T is like enough some mawkish modern play. 

There was no William Shakespeare {sceptically) 
in my day. 

The play is '' As I Like It." Says she so ? 

By all the saints how doth the lady know ? {Mus- 
ingly.) 

Marry ! I '11 go, in sooth, that I may wot 

If she speaks true. ( With a shrug.) 

Mayhap, I '11 like it not ! {Exit.) 



84 



CURTAIN CALLS 



85 



THE EXPLANATION 

THE WANDERING JEW 

HORACE 

JONAH 

LADY MACBETH 

GODIVA 

DESDEMONA 

EVE 
CLEOPATRA 



86 



THE EXPLANATION 

I DREAMED I cast a Pebble in a Pond 

That stretched to the Horizon and Beyond, 

Making a Ripple that my Fancy took 

To be the Circulation of my Book. 

And as the Circle wide and wider spread, 

It passed the Limit of Things Limited, 

Until the Ripple from my Pebble cast 

Had waxed a Mighty Wave, that swelling fast 

Broke presently, and Overflowed the Past; 

And Then I dreamed came to me shoals on shoals 

Of Complimentary Letters from Great Souls, 

Praising my Book. — Of These a Choice Selection, 

Reader, I now present for your Inspection. 



87 




THE WANDERING JEW 



No Living Soul can testify 
With such authority as T 
Upon the Weariness and Ache 
Of Walking just for Walking's sake; 
But ever since I undertook 
To be the Agent of your Book, 
And travelled for the sake of Trade, 
I Ve felt like quite a different Shade. 
Indeed, I have at last begun 
To wish my journey never donej 
88 



Both for your good Book's sake and miue ; 
Love and Percent. I thus combine — 
And that reminds me — 

I enclose 
My statement for the month, which shows 
The net subscriptions up to date 
(With Discount at the usual rate). 
Among subscribers you '11 perceive 
The names of Cleopatra, Eve, 
Lady Godiva, Horace, Jonah, 
Lady Macbeth and Desdemona. 
They all send testimonials too. 
More later — until then, adieu. 

p.s. 

I have (I trust with your consent) 
Deducted sixty-five per cent. 



89 




HORACE 



"Here's to you!" as jon moderns say when 

drinking, 
And 't is a vast improvement, to my thinking, 
On spilling precious liquor on the sod, 
For fear of angering some thirsty god. 
Here 's to your Book — It cannot fail to bring 
Pleasure to such as like that kind of thing; 
90 



Fairies and Flowers, Curlycues and quirls. 

For my part, though (don't think me Pig mid 

Pearls), 
To tell the truth, I rather miss the girls. 
De gustibus . . . / 

Leastways the Cover 's showy, 
I think I '11 pass my copy on to Chloe. 



91 




JONAH 



EN ROUTE 



It is the Third Day Out — or (if you pin 
Me strictly to the Truth) the Third Day In. 
All day the Sea tempestuous has wrought, 
And yet I don't feel lonesome as T ought, 
When I consider that I am the one 
And only passenger aboard, with none 
To tell me Stories older than the Sun, 
92 



Or make me wagers on the Daily Run, 
Or, if exclusively inclined, to shun. 
It happened thiswise : once I took a ship 
For Tarshish, and, to read upon the Trip, 
Had brought your Little Book of Garden Lore, 
Upon the which I set exceeding store. 
Now as I read, lost in a happy dream, 
There waxed a sea that smote upon our beam 
With such a smite that every one was floored ; 
My precious Little Book went Overboard, 
And I leaped after, of my own accord. 

I saved my Book, and rose in time to hail 

This very opportunely passing Whale, 

Within whose dim Cetacean Saloon 

I find my solitude a Precious Boon; 

For as I read your " Garden '' o'er and o'er, 

I care not if I 7iever reach the Shore. 



93 




LADY MACBETH 



Since 't is by every one agreed, 
To say that He tvho runs may read ; 
Then she who walks^ though with less haste, 
The joys of Literature may taste. 
So I who pace this spectral floor, 
Doing my perpetual encore 
Of Life's Performance o'er and o'er. 
In moments spare, however brief. 
Turn to your ^' Garden " for relief 
94 



From gore and ghosts with fearful eyes,- 

To Cupids, Bees, and Butterflies, 

And Roses, who revive in me 

The Hope that some day I may be 

By their exotic exorcism, 

Quite cured of my somnambulism. 



95 




GODIVA 



<*I WAITED for the Train at Coventry," 

The Train was several hundred years too late 

(It had not been invented yet, you see) ; 

Such is the Cold Cast Irony of Fate. 

At last the Train arrived, and with it too 

Your Book — a Precious Package marked "collect. " 

Raptured I read it through and through, and 

through, 
And then I paused in sadness to reflect — 
96 



How that same Book had been a priceless boon, 
But for a little accident of Date ; 
If only I had not been born so soon. 
Or if you had not gone to press so late. 
Book, if only you had come to me 
Ere I rode forth upon that morning sad ! 
In naught but Faith and Hope and Charity, 
And other Vague Abstractions thinly clad ; 
In whole Editions I would have invested 
(I hope you get good Royalties therefrom), 
To keep the uaughty townfolk interested, 
And most Particularly, Peeping Tom. 



97 




DESDEMONA 



Dear Mr. Author, I make bold 
To send you greeting, as an old 
Admirer from beyond the Styx. 
I love your book! (I ordered Six!) 
Will you believe me when I write 
Your verses saved my life this night ? 
'T was thus (but first I ought to say, 
In Hades we enact each day 
98 



Life's Tragedy, as in a Play 

That has no ending) : well, to-day, 

When we came to the final act, 

I introduced with cunning tact 

Some extracts from your charming Book. 

I wish you 'd seen Othello's look 

Grow soft — and when he came to do 

The Deed — lo, he forgot his Cue, 

Ending the scene, oh, bliss of blisses. 

By smothering me instead with kisses ! 



99 




EVE 



DEAR ! I cannot choose but write 
To tell you of the Pure Delight 
Your Little Book has given me. 
While reading it I seem to be 
Transported in your Fancy's train, 
To my own Garden once again. 
Ah me ! whenever I recall 
That Fatal Morning of the Fall, 
100 



Of One Thing quite convinced I am; 

Had I that day, as Old Khayyam, 

A Book of Verses ^neath the Bough, 

I 'd be in Paradise e'en now. 

With your Sweet Book to entertain. 

The Serpent might have talked in vain ; 

For is not Curiosity 

The naughty Daughter of Ennui? 

Yet, but for my bite into the Unknown, 
Meseems your ' ' Garden ' ' never could have grown. 



101 




CLEOPATRA 

How sharper than a Serpent's tooth 
It is to have a Thankless child. 



Who wrote those lines, I wonder; was it you? 
For if it was, you know a Thing or Two 
About a Serpent. No, I must decline 
Discussing children, they 're not in my line; 
102 



As for the Serpent, I '11 vouch for the truth 
Of all you say about a Serpent's Tooth. 
I 've felt his Fang, I know its deadly smart; 
Also I know your Little Book by Heart; 
And so I pray this offspring of your Brain 
May be a Thankful Child, and bring much gain. 



103 



Some take their gold 

In minted miold, 
And some in Harps hereafter ; 

But give me mine 

In Tresses fine, 
And keep the change in Laughter. 



104 



O «^ 4 ^^^^t 





;'«** 



